Teatime in Stockholm

Svensk läsförståelse

Jorå. Mitt liv är sådär lagom hektiskt nu. Jag jobbar, klubbar, ölar och ja - lever livet som man kanske ska göra när man är 19?
Annars är livet på det här kontoret är precis lika underligt som vanligt, men jag står ut i och med att jag äntligen har jag funnit, eller kanske tvingat fram höstkänslor och uppskattar den kalla luften och de gulnande löven så mycket som det går. Mörkret är dock fortfarande ett problem.
Jag vet att jag skriver på svenska, men nu när jag inte har lång tid på mig vil jag bara skriva av mig lite. Och eftersom jag lyssnar på dina italienska radioprogram så kanske du vill läsa mina svenska texter?

I know I'm wrighting this in swedish and that you'll probably won't understand a thing. But sence I haven't got that much time, I just thought that it would be easyer to wright in my own language for a change. And I have lissned to your italian radioprograms, so I thought that you can read my swedish for a while.

Indiesnob band-name of the year

You Say Party! We Say Die!

"Songs to be cremated with"

Just in case you are bored, here is a mixtape by Morrissey, from the 1989.

Saker som vi glömt #8

The Miths

(even if he can't remember why they decided to cut the "S")

Indiesnob promemoria

"It usually goes something like this:
buy a 7'', listen to it,
fall in love with it,
play it everyday for a week,
put on a compilation tape,
file the single and rediscover it in 5 years time".

(Sean Forbes, Rough Trade Shop, London - in the booklet inside Indiepop vol.1)

Tomorrow will be the first day of autumn.
So today I'd like to recall one of the finest moment of the summer.



(now listening to Whatever Season by Sambassadeur)

mmm lunch.
well at least it looks good

(...uhm, looks like I'm here alone, aimlessly practicing my english...
anyone fancy a cup of tea?...)

The Sound Of Young Sweden?

Last thursday I played records in small bar in Modena (50 km from Bologna), and there I met an old friend from the time of the university. Now he works at some cultural department in the office of the Major of Modena.
He really liked the music, and he made a lot of questions about those swedish records. I talked about the festival, and how it was nice etc. He said he reads my music blog, and we joked about organizing that kind of concert in Italy.

Last year in Modena, the modern art museum made an exhibition about contemporary artists from Sweden. They've been helped by the Swedish Council or something like that. They also had Tetrapak as a sponsor, because Tetrapak have a factory near the town.
Friday my friend wrote me a long email: he just met some of the organizers of that exhibition, and he talked about the possibility of doing a similar thing for the music.
Then he discovered that the ambassador of Sweden was going to visit Modena at the beginning of october.

So now he wants me and Lucio to write a draft of a plan for a swedish indie music festival due the next spring.
And this is completely crazy.
Kalla mig CP.

Saker som vi glömt #631

"Anti-Meeting Syndrome" = he never went to the right Tunnelbana exit.

Kalla mig alkis

Why can't I get Kalla mig out of my head? It's not that good, I like it anyway but not that much, but I can't help it. And yesterday night, when I finally had got the song out of my head becouse I was on a small club whith loud music - guess what song they start playing?

I think my life is unhealthy



«Veal-Fattening Pen: Small, cramped office workstations built of fabric-covered disassemblable wall partitions and inhabited by junior staff members. Named for the pre-slaughter cubicles used by the cattle industry».

(from Generation X - Tales for an accelerated culture, by Douglas Coupland, 1991)

There are other definitions from that book here (but they lack the funny drawings).
I guess when you're nineteen Douglas Coupland could be fatal, and in some sense maybe today he's outdated, but I still believe he made a smart portrait of what our life sometimes is. I loved almost everything he wrote later.

I think my life is a bit unhealthy

last week I went out wednesday, thursday, friday and saturday, and during the days I just sat in this little office trying to at least lissten to good music. And this week is starting too look a lot like the last one. hm. I'm trying to cut down on my smokin though, and it acually works pretty well. AND; I still haven't started to lissten to Broder Daniel, it can't be that bad.

I think I found our dictionary


The Rock Snob*s Dictionary by David Kamp & Steven Daly

The language is overrated

About the dictionary, again.
You speak swedish.
Yesterady on the bus, coming home from work, I was hearing people talking in albanian, vietnamese, tunisian, arabian, hard dialects from the South of Italy, russian and french.
I was thinking how to write in english.
I speak italian.
But, somehow, everything works.
Is it because everybody knows what each other wants?
And often don't care about it?
I said to myself that language is overrated.
Then I said to myself that this sentence has enough philosophical value to write it on a blog.

This reminds me of something

«I drive you down to the station
it's a lazy summer's day
I've got no extraordinary cards in my hand
no words or actions to make you stay
you like to be up north and I like it down here
and love is not just like air
you breath it and it's everywhere...»
(F. Hyvönen)

I like this picture, and maybe in a confused way I find it right.
Except for the fact that I don't like it so much down here.

For the guy who didn't know swedish?

http://www.systranbox.com/systran/box

She knows more then well that you shouldn't be posting at this time at night when you have been drinking. But sometimes you just have to do something, when you come home alone at night and when everybody around you just seem to be.. stupid? It would be better if that italian guy knew swedish, 'couse she's bad at expressing herself in english at this hour.

Saker som vi glömt #5

They were sitting near the water, silently for a while. She was leaning her head on her knees, surrounding her legs with the arms.
She had just finished to smoke.
He was watching her neck from above, standing near her, and then suddenly he couldn't help saying something about her neck.
It was something so clumsy no one in the world will ever be able to remember or write, and there should be no point in doing that. But, although the title of this post, you can easily guess.

Engelskt uppslagsord:
beam
a supporting element (of steel, concrete, etc.) used in construction

The last night

With people tenting outside the club, a picnic in queue 3 hours before it opened, a giant disco bowl hanging outside and a party that went on 'till 9 am you could say that the night was special.
The strange thing is, that although the night started for me at 7pm and ended at 10am, it seamed so short. That might have something to do with the amount of alcohol I pored in my body during those hours, but I don't know.
But of all these hours, some of the best must have been between 6 and 8 am, when there was an after party on Skeppsholmen where I jumped in the cold water and where Henrik Berggren (the singer in Broder Daniel) sat playing Shoreline; a Broder Daniel song I really hate with the few people left singing along, laughing.

"No time for us"

Wow! I saw the pictures of the last night at the Metropolis (hey, I saw you beaming!) and then I downloaded the last song they played.
Oh, those simple lyrics so fitting!
Now I can figure out better what you meant with "crying fourteen-years-old boys and girls with glitters around their eyes".
But it seems that Broder Daniel has worked great for a party end.

Saker som vi glömt #836

She gave him a bage (maybe to replace the "I'm shy, kiss me first"one) saying something in swedish he couldn't understand.
The bage wasn't that good looking, but the message on it had meant a lot for her during that summer.
It was about Fantomen (the phantom), and it read:
Fantomen gör tyska bögar franska; The phantom makes german gays frensh

Long goodbye

This saturday my friend had a dinner for her closest friends. Shes leaving Stockholm for Glasgow for at least four years.
I'm really happy for her, becouse she's going there to do what she want's the most, but I couldn't help being really, really sad that night. It's just Scottland and I will come to visit her, but when my friends Gustav and Pascal sang her a song about the shaddow of Ray Bradbury in her leather bag and her pretentious names on msn I reallised that we'll never be able to hang out the way we have been doing the latest years, and that my life is really changing right now.
I allso realized how much I care about them all.
Jag hoppas verkligen att det här är en av de Saker som jag aldrig glömmer

Saker som vi glömt #764

They were talking about Buffy, a tv serial which reached a certain popularity on Earth between the 20th and the 21st century.
It was very late in the night. They didn't drink enough to say they were drunk.
The talking and the cold did the rest, fading away the last alcohol in their blood, leaving them alone in the search of some reason to not going to sleep.
So they talked.
They were into inside jokes. Deeply.
At one point, they were so into "inside inside jokes" that they decided to call them internal jokes.
And that's one of them.

"What are we doing here, if romance isn't dead?"
(Maximo Park, Graffiti)

Tomorrow I'm going to be witness at the marriage of my life-long best friend.
The funny thing is that she's going to marry a swedish boy!
So, at the party I will be djing for a hundred of swedish boys and girls and I'm quite scared. Should I open with Vapnet? Should I go with something harder, like Hives?

Then sunday there's a festival here in Bologna and the radio station asked me if I would like to interview the hyped english band Maximo Park.
I accepted even if I never did anything like that, I thought it could be good, or maybe a mess, not sure, but I'm gonna try.

So I'll be off line for the weekend. Ciao!

The middle-class lifestyle is challenging me

I wonder when I'm going to lose this smile. This far light in the eyes I captured like a polaroid that afternoon. It's something pale green. I wonder when I'm going to stop playing swedish music driving into this fucking italian traffic and smiling to people in other cars.

What will you do the night of your 31st birthday? I played records in a bar in Modena for very few people. I was wearing my red t-shirt of Brian Wilson presents Smile!, which is quite indiesnob. A couple of friends came to visit and I received for present a book by Georges Perec entitled Life: A User's Manual. I decided to remain sober, and that's definitely aging.

Tired

Well. I've just lost my wallet, I have no idea how I will get to work tomorrow and I'v just danced to Broder Daniel. What can I say? Strange night.
(But I'll have to say that I liked the name of the band you wrote about)